Tyrant's Obsession With The Heiress-Chapter 86: The Story Behind The Devil’s Curse [3]
Recommended Listening: [Geralt Of Rivia- by Sonya Belousova & Giona Ostinelli]
Orpheus had been filled with rage, shame, and the need to conquer death itself. The Pale Beast was right; his journey in Ethuaria was far from ended. There was still a great deal of conquests to complete, lands to pillage, and empires to crumble and make his own.
"What will it be, little king of fire and ash?" The Pale Beast muttered, circling him. "Are you prepared to sacrifice that which makes you human to watch the world burn? To watch your enemies bow before you in servitude?"
It was a tempting offer, and as reckless as it was at first glance, what choice did Orpheus have? He refused to accept such a pathetic death while leaving nothing behind to his name.
It would bring great shame upon his bloodlines and the Dirnaan tribes he was meant to rule over.
"Take whatever you must," Orpheus agreed, still feeling the agony in his chest where he was speared. It was the first time an enemy had ever managed to land a hit on him, and that was a lesson to never again underestimate his opponent. "What will you grant me in return?"
"In exchange for your humanity and warmth, I will grant you resurrection," the Pale Beast stated, stopping until it was right in front of Orpheus. "Your fire will burn hotter than any dragon’s flames, and you will walk with ice in your veins."
Orpheus’ gaze narrowed. "Are you implying that my Crimson Brand will finally obey me and work as powerfully as it should?"
The Pale Beast nodded. "Your fire will be far more powerful than any that was in your bloodline; in addition, for your sacrifice, I will grant you a second magical mark. The Black Frost."
A second magical mark? That was unheard of. Or extremely rare, since most would have to dabble in foul rituals in order to gain one. And even if they did, the rituals were rarely successful.
Just what exactly was this Pale Beast? Where did this creature come from? Why was it never spoken about in history? It was a risky offer with no way of knowing whether he would survive or if there was any truth to the creature’s words.
But he was already dead. So what did it even matter? He had nothing more to lose.
"I will take your offer," Orpheus finally conceded. "Are there any other conditions?"
"None." The Pale Beast’s crusty mouth curled up like a grin.
The deal was struck and there was no turning back.
What came next was unimaginable pain that Orpheus had never experienced before, not even from the wound that caused his death.
He crumbled to his knees as something, icier than the cold of the Frosthowl Peaks he’d known all his life, filled his soul. But it wasn’t just cold; it felt like iron spikes were tearing through his spirit.
It was enough to make him scream out in agony, clutching at the side of his head. He couldn’t see anything in front of him, and the Pale Beast disappeared.
"And now, little king of fire and ash, I will live in you until the end of days," the Pale Beast’s harsh whispers echoed through his mind.
It had been a trick since the start, one that Orpheus was too young and foolish to even think about. He was power-hungry and driven by the shame that now hung over his shoulders.
Too blind to think of the potential dangers, but now it was too late. The Pale Beast was merging with him and there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
Even in death, he was powerless to do anything to save himself once again.
His mind was no longer his own, and it felt as if darkness had entered his soul. But by the time his agony was over, he was no longer in the space between life and death.
Orpheus inhaled a deep breath when his heart started to beat once more, his body jerking up from the puddle of blood where he died, like he was rising up from the depths of a lake. His heart had beaten strong and fast, making him feel a surge of two energies inside him.
He touched the right side of his neck where he felt a sting, tracing the outline of the Black Frost mark that bloomed across his skin —black and jagged like cracks in eternal ice.
Orpheus Van Merikh’s resurrection came with truths no one else could see; the first was known to him but the other three? Even he did not know.
Such was the nature of the cruel and deceitful Pale Beast.
One, the creature now lived inside him, watching every move and action through his eyes and the Black Frost Mark. It would feed on his violence, pride, and cold resolve.
That was known to Orpheus.
Two, he could not die by mortal means, which meant his soul was tethered to something that would never allow him to die naturally or through any means in Ethuaria.
Orpheus did not know since he was far too powerful for anyone to ever land a fatal blow on him ever again.
And last but not least, the cruellest part of it all, if Orpheus ever fell in love and if that love was returned, the Pale Beast would awaken fully—jealous, ravenous, and desperate to devour the soul he reclaimed.
To love is to die. But to never love... is to remain a puppet of the Pale Beast forever.
That was the unfortunate fate Orpheus had chosen for himself, but now that he was filled with unimaginable power, it did not matter.
At will, when he returned to life, the cold of Frosthowl Peaks seemed to obey his will. The blizzard that brought about his doom settled when he stood up again.
The strong gales quieted; the snow melted, and the air cleared.
Orpheus Van Merikh would never be the same again, nor would he ever taste death again. With such power at his disposal, his enemies would never again make him taste death.
He looked up to the sky, standing in the middle of a graveyard of corpses, men he’d known since childhood.
Before his death, he vowed revenge, and he never forgot their screams when the enemy cut each of them down. But now? When he looked down at them, he felt nothing.
There was no remorse. No pity, and certainly no desire to avenge them.
There was only a strong need to slaughter his murderer.
And when Orpheus finished relating most of the tale, Lady Karina could hardly believe her ears. He didn’t expect that she would be in tears halfway through it, especially when he told her the details about his death.
He omitted most parts about the Pale Beast; he didn’t tell her that he became its host or what deal was struck between them, only that he met the creature and the next thing he knew, he was resurrected with a second magical mark.
Orpheus didn’t want the lady to learn about his foolishness or his recklessness. Still, he told her what he could, and perhaps in the future, when he was ready to completely open himself to her, he would tell her the truth.
All of it.
In tears, her pretty emerald eyes reddened, Lady Karina stood up and walked over to him. Orpheus detested seeing her in tears, but was the lady truly weeping because of what had happened to him?
There was no lie in her eyes. He cupped her face, his eyes softening.
"Why do you shed tears, Rina?" Orpheus asked gently. It had been a long time since he last used her nickname.
Lady Karina closed her eyes, letting the tears roll down her cheeks. They were warm and filled with both sympathy and pain. No matter what kind of man Orpheus was, no one deserved to have such a terrible death.
Hearing about his life in the Frosthowl Peaks, how he died so young, and the despair he must have felt was something she couldn’t imagine.
It was no excuse for his brutality, but why was he so misguided? Why did he have to be taught to be a killer from a young age? Why did such a foul and dangerous creature that no one had any memory of come to him?
Lady Karina suddenly embraced him, wrapping her arms around his midsection. Orpheus wasn’t entirely surprised, but he quite liked whenever she touched him willingly.
Relating the tale about his own death seemed to hold no significance; it didn’t even hurt as much as it would for anyone else, but it was quite nice to have her embrace.
"I am so sorry that no one was there for you," Lady Karina apologised, sniffling against his chest. "You did not deserve...such cruelty. You should have known love...you should not have been out fighting wars so young."
Her concerns were foreign to him.
